


Maid of Dishonour

by LeanaM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, based on Made of Honour, just a series of drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-03 06:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10238090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeanaM/pseuds/LeanaM
Summary: Pansy has no intention of giving up on Draco Malfoy. Who cares that he's proposing to Hermione Granger? She'll do anything she can to stop the marriage. But somewhere along the way, motives change, confusion reigns, and maybe, just maybe, it isn't Draco she wants, after all... Updates Tuesdays and Fridays. Pairings: Any and all combos of HG/PP/DM





	1. The Ring

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I wrote this some months ago on Tumblr because Ash-Castle posted something about Made of Honour and then my mind ran with this plunnie. Please note this is story is from Pansy's POV and much as you may like Dramione, that pairing is NOT the endgame.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. The plot is based off the movie Made of Honour, but with a twist... Enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks to Chiseplushie who beta'd this whole story. Any remaining mistakes my own.

"What do you think?"

Pansy stared at the ring in Draco's hand and swallowed around the lump that had suddenly, painfully, lodged itself in her throat. A sapphire surrounded by diamonds in a platinum setting glinted in the sunlight and for one brief, interminable moment, she could pretend that it was for her.

Draco closed his fingers over the ring again and bit his lip. "Do you think she'll like it?"

Pansy looked up and pasted a smile on her face that once he would immediately have recognised as fake. That she could get away with it now just made it even clearer that their relationship had changed, and it  _hurt._

"She'll love it. So you're really going through with it, then? You're really going to pop the question?" She flushed at the sudden desperation in her voice.

Draco's shoulders sagged in relief as soon as she had voiced her approval and he didn't notice anything amiss. Again.

"Yeah. We're going to France for the weekend and I was planning to ask her then. It's where we first met."

Pansy's smile became a little wider and a little less genuine. "I remember. Such a romantic beginning."

The words weighed heavily on her tongue and she had to force herself to say them without too much of the cutting sarcasm that usually coloured all her words and without too much of the regret that pierced her body like a hot iron rod every time she thought of it.

She knew she should have followed him to France when he moved there after the War. She knew she shouldn't have let him go alone. But she had still been tied up in her parents' trials and by the time she was finally free of those shackles, years had passed, and Draco had fallen for Hermione Granger in the City of Love.  _Of all the clichés in the world._  It made her sick to her stomach to think of how they ran into each other in Paris, started talking, and eventually ended up together, long before she ever had the opportunity to make a move herself on the man she had loved since childhood. She'd been supportive, of course, convinced that the know-it-all Gryffindor would eventually get on his nerves and they'd break up. She'd been prepared since day one to be his shoulder to cry on whenever that happened. But now they were getting married and she was on the verge of losing him forever.

"She'll say yes, won't she?"

There was the insecure Draco again, the vulnerable man only she had ever seen when they were growing up. The flicker of fear and self-doubt softened her battered heart - she always turned into a puddle of mush when he was like that - and she drew him in for a hug.

"Of course she'll say yes. She'd be a fool not to. And Hermione Granger is many things…" She stepped back again and grinned, her mind listing all the insults she knew she could never say in front of him. "But she is no fool. She'll be thrilled and she'll say yes, and you'll be married before you know it."

She turned around and closed her eyes to fight of the tears that threatened to spill. It took her only a moment to compose herself enough to turn back to her best friend, the love of her life, and smile another artificial smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I have to go now, Draco. Good luck. Not that you'll need it."

Pansy turned on her heel and Apparated to the sanctuary of her bedroom, where she could finally give in to the tears and pain of dashed hopes and broken dreams.

* * *

Several bottles of Firewhiskey later, Pansy stumbled into her bathroom, clutching the edge of the wash basin to keep upright. Her other arm hugged a bottle of Goblin Brandy - the only bottle left in her liquor cabinet, a horrid draught usually reserved for unpleasant company - and she glared at her reflection in the mirror.

"Dis… Dis inn't over yet, Herminny.. Hermy… Granger. I'mma get'm back. Draco'sh mine." She tossed her head back with determination and toppled over onto the plush bathroom mat. Some brandy sloshed from the bottle onto her dress but she didn't even notice. The last thing she thought before she passed out was that she really ought to have stuck to Firewhiskey.


	2. The Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta thanks to Chiseplushie

Hangover notwithstanding, Pansy remembered her resolve to stop the wedding of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger with absolute, painfully throbbing clarity. It was the only thing that could convince her to get up from the bathroom floor, hunt for an extra-strong Sobriety Potion and continue about her day as if nothing was wrong. And as the headache receded, her resolve only strengthened.

She laughed and joked and made her usual sarcastic comments and it was just mind-boggling that none of her closest friends seemed to notice that it was all fake, that she was broken and just putting up a front. Either she was a better actress than she'd imagined or they were all oblivious idiots. She knew her laughter came a fraction too late, her comments were a little too sharp, her movements a little too measured. Nobody else did.

The dreaded weekend came and passed, and when she received an owl from Draco with just the one line -  _She said yes!_  - she managed not to  _incendio_  it on sight. It was a lot harder to restrain herself when she received another note, this time from Hermione -  _using Draco's owl_  - asking her to meet for a chat one afternoon.

That was how Pansy found herself sitting at a table at Fortescue's trying hard not to glare at the sapphire and diamond ring on Hermione Granger's finger as the woman across from her kept a steady stream of chit-chat going, emphasizing her words with quick and snappy gestures that irritated Pansy beyond belief.  _Can't she keep her hands_ still  _for once?_

"But anyway, that's not why I asked you to come here today." Hermione Granger clasped her hands together nervously, fiddling with the ring she clearly wasn't used to just yet. Pansy quickly avoided looking at it by concentrating on the menu in front of her.

"Have you tried the Firewhiskey, orange and mint flavour? It sounds strangely enticing."

"Pansy…"

"Or maybe the Dragonblood mix? I'm sure they're not using  _real_  dragonblood but they don't actually say…"

Hermione put her hand over the menu and pushed it down on the table, forcing Pansy to look up at her in annoyance.

"Pansy!"

"Honestly, Granger, why invite me out for ice cream if you're not going to let me order anything?"

"Can we talk first? Please? I need to get this out of the way."

Pansy shrugged and leaned back in her chair, studying the woman she now hated more than anything in the world. Her hair was atrociously wild as ever -  _how could Draco look at this every day?_  Her clothes were serviceable but hardly enticing or even flattering. She wasn't wearing any makeup or glamours, which made it all the more frustrating that her dark skin was simply glowing and her brown eyes were bright and brilliant and…  _Fine. Maybe I can see how he can look at her every day. But honestly, the woman is so irritating. She's playing with that sodding ring_ again _. How vulgar to draw attention to it like that._

"Shoot, Granger, I'm listening," she sighed, her own hands folded demurely over the menu and  _motionless_.

"We never really got along," Hermione began.

"And there are seventeen Sickles to a Galleon."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and twisted her lips in irritation.

"Oh, sorry," Pansy said breezily, "I thought we were stating random facts. Pray continue."

She refrained from making a dramatic sweeping gesture with her hands just because she could and schooled her face into an almost-kind smile.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed one hand over her forehead. Then she shook her head and put both her hands over Pansy's. The platinum band of her ring pressed on the back of Pansy's hand, burning every nerve ending and sending needle pricks up her arm.

"Look, Draco and I are getting married. You're his best friend. We never really made an effort to get along in the past two years, but now… I'd like to get to know you better, for Draco's sake. You're so important to him, he loves you like a sister. So please, can we leave the past behind and try to become friends?"

Pansy's face remained carefully unchanged. She stared down at the ring, the darkest blue gem she'd ever seen with only a hint of purple, absolutely flawless, and then looked up again into the too-trusting eyes of Hermione Granger, who had continued talking, though Pansy hadn't heard a word after 'loves you like a sister.' She'd thought her heart had shattered when Draco told her he was going to propose to Hermione. She'd been wrong.

But in that humiliating pain burned a fire, a determination, a solid promise to herself. She'd do whatever it took to get Draco to herself.

"Of course," Pansy interrupted. "Of course we should be friends. I will admit I kept my distance before because I just couldn't see the two of you… I mean… But here you are." She let out an affected laugh that sounded so fake she almost flinched. "Let's just forget the past and focus on the future, Gra… Hermione."

Hermione tightened her hands briefly over Pansy's and sent her such a brilliant smile that Pansy, for just a moment, thought she looked absolutely beautiful. She quickly quashed that thought.

Hermione picked up her own menu, then put it down again and trailed her fingers over her ring. She smiled absently as she looked at it, her face a picture of happiness, love and innocent wonder. Pansy realised with a pang that the woman really did love Draco, and that her own plans would cause a lot of heartbreak.

_But it can't be as painful as what I'm going through right now._

"So then I have one more question before we order," Hermione said with an anxious smile. "I discussed this with Draco and he's all for it, and since the wedding preparations will be such a busy time, it would help us get to know each other as well. And because you're so important to Draco you should have an important role in the wedding. So will you?"

Pansy blinked at the incoherent rattle. "Will I what?"

"Will you be my maid of honour?"

Of all the things Pansy could have expected to discuss, this certainly wasn't one of them, and she couldn't help her mouth falling open in surprise.

"But… Me? But we… I mean… Don't you… Wouldn't you prefer someone else to take that role? Like the Weaselette. One of your own friends? We hardly know each other."

Hermione shook her head.

"I want Ginny to be one of my bridesmaids, of course, but I'm asking you. Please, Pansy. It would mean so much to both Draco and myself."

Pansy stared at Hermione, her thoughts running through her head faster than a Firebolt in flight. It would be excruciating to see Draco and Hermione so happy together and planning their special day and being  _part of it_ , but what better position to sabotage the wedding? What better way to make sure this horrible event would never take place? So she smiled another insincere smile and nodded.

"I'm honoured," she murmured.

Hermione squealed and jumped up and enveloped her in an uncomfortable hug that made Pansy inhale too much of that untameable hair. It smelled like roses. Pansy hated roses.

"Oh, I'm so happy you said yes! We have so much to plan! I'm so happy you'll help me! Let's order ice cream and drinks and we can get started."

Pansy tuned out the incessant chatter and congratulated herself on keeping a cool head.

A waitress passed by their table, for the third time since they'd sat down, and took their order with an irritated look. Their desserts were soon brought to their table and Pansy stared at Hermione's order.

"Are you really going to eat all that?" Pansy asked, eyes innocently widened in surprise. "I mean, you'll be trying on wedding dresses soon."

Hermione, who had been about to put her spoon into the enormous ice cream sundae in front of her, froze and eyed the delicious dessert uncertainly.

Pansy gasped, one hand flying to her mouth in dismay. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to imply… You're not fat, of course you're not. You have nothing to worry about, not at all. Besides, the wedding is a few months off, at least. You've got time."

Pansy let Hermione prattle on and made agreeing or disagreeing noises at just the right times. When they left, she noticed Hermione hadn't finished even half her sundae. She smirked at Hermione's back. That woman would soon learn that those who cradle snakes to their chest risked a poisonous bite.


	3. The Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta thanks to Chiseplushie

Pansy had seen more of Hermione Granger in the past month than in the five years before – and that included those regular  _Daily Prophet_  and  _Witch Weekly_  features about the Golden Girl's latest exploits. The woman had taken to the organisation of the society wedding of the century with an energy that made Pansy feel exhausted just watching from the sidelines. She had ambushed –  _ambushed_ – Pansy when she was leaving the Daily Prophet offices after turning in her fashion and investment articles, manhandling her into a nearby café and dragging a massive binder from the depths of that tattered little beaded bag she seemed to take everywhere, overflowing with lists, planning charts and so many stacks of colour-coded notes that it made Pansy's head spin.

The woman hadn't been kidding about spending lots of time together and getting to know each other, either. She now knew exactly how Hermione Granger liked her steak, that she preferred salmon over shrimp and felt guilty about eating chips, though she never could resist them. She knew the woman would twirl pencils in her hair when she was thinking about something until they got stuck, and chewed on her bottom lip when she tried not to laugh. She could see from the set of her shoulders when work had been stressful and when it was calm, and she could never, ever get used to how physical Hermione was with her friends. Little touches, a hug and kiss on the cheek to greet her, a hand on her arm or knees bumping when she wanted Pansy's attention, or even leaning on Pansy's shoulder in helpless laughter at her biting comments on the people around them. It made Pansy's hair rise and goosebumps erupt all over her body.

Lunch dates, Saturday dinners, and after-work get-togethers were filled with the most inane discussions about colour schemes and the kind of parchment on which to send out the invitation and it was all Pansy could do not to tear her hair out in frustration. Who even cared if the parchment was pearl or alabaster or cream or eggshell? Who would notice if the ink was midnight black or obsidian, or even fucking magenta?

It took Pansy a while to realise that all these ridiculous discussions really were symptomatic of only one thing: Hermione Granger was afraid to fail. Through her marriage she was suddenly entering the highest echelons of a society she did not fully understand, with rules and expectations she knew nothing about, and she did not want to fail. And what was more, she thought Pansy was going to save her. So Pansy let herself be dragged into cafés, met up with Hermione and pretended to be interested in the details of a wedding she had promised herself would never take place anyway.

And then, suddenly, it wasn't just Hermione anymore. The first lunch with Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley had been as near a disaster as it could have been without Hermione noticing. Constant biting and not even half-disguised digs from the Weaselette had made the tension rise to boiling point, and if Luna hadn't made the irritating red-head back down for Hermione's sake, Pansy was quite sure she would have lost her temper after all.

The result of it all, however, was that Pansy now had the honour of throwing Hermione a Betrothal Ball to properly introduce her to Society, and she couldn't wait to see Hermione squirm uncomfortably among people who would notice every faux-pas and quietly - or not - condemn her for it. The Weaselette had promised help, but Pansy wasn't planning to take her opinions in account.

The ball itself wasn't that much of a chore; after all, Pansy had spent years of her childhood watching and helping her mother organise many social events in a constant competition with the Malfoys that had spurred on both women to throw the most lavish and extravagant of parties at a moment's notice, only to be outdone the next time. She could organise a ball in her sleep. And it was an excellent opportunity to take Hermione shopping for the most unflattering robes ever to be worn by a Malfoy bride-to-be, especially since the other bridesmaids had begged out of the shopping spree. It wasn't like they needed the opinion of someone who wore strawberries and radishes in her ears. And Ginny Weasley had the elegance and taste of a drunk Hippogriff. No, Pansy was much better off trying to find a dress for Hermione by herself, without those two interfering witches.

"Why don't you try this one? I'm sure this chartreuse will make the highlights in your hair come out beautifully," Pansy said as she handed yet another dress to Hermione through the curtain of her cubicle. It had the most atrocious lime-coloured lace borders she had ever seen and she couldn't wait to see Hermione in it. The pureblood society matrons would be horrified.

Hermione stepped out from behind the curtain, tugging uncertainly at the dress and looking at Pansy with pleading eyes. "How is this one?"

Pansy felt her mouth go dry. The dress hugged Hermione in all the right places, hinting at her hip curves just enough to be tantalizing, and that godawful colour actually worked on her dark skin, bringing out the golden flecks in her eyes and… Pansy shook her head violently to remove those thoughts from her mind and conjured a hesitating smile.

"The colour really does suit," she admitted, though grudgingly. "But maybe we should find you something a little more… loose?" Her eyes lingered on Hermione's bosom and hips, and Hermione self-consciously wrapped her arms around herself. Pansy found herself patting Hermione's shoulder comfortingly. "Have no fear, Gra… Hermione. I'll find you something suitable."

She dashed out into the shop again and headed straight for the rack with earthy colours. She found a dress in shades of cinnamon and puce that would entirely drown the blushing bride-to-be's lustrous skin -  _did she really just think that woman had a lustrous skin?_  - but as she turned around to go back she saw a shop assistant walk away from Hermione's cubicle. She frowned, instantly suspicious.

Moments later, Hermione pushed aside the curtain and stepped out, dressed in a beautiful peach ball gown with silver embellishments on the shoulders and bodice that seemed to be moving like a constant flow of water and light, and Pansy froze. Hermione looked absolutely gorgeous. She smiled at Pansy, her brown eyes alight with pleasure, as her hands stroked the delicate fabric of the ethereal skirt, made of many layers of the finest silk.

"This is the one, I think," Hermione said as she gazed at herself in the mirror with a look of surprise, as if she herself could not believe how beautiful she was.

Pansy could only stare, the cinnamon atrocity in her hands dropping to the floor, forgotten. The dress was perfect, accentuating the beautiful line of Hermione's shoulders and bringing out the warmer undertones in her skin, and...

And Pansy just couldn't bring herself to make a scathing remark. The words dried on her tongue and her eyes refused to look away from the divine picture in front of her.

She had to fight away tears while Hermione changed and cursed that damned meddling shop assistant who had found the perfect dress to make Draco Malfoy fall even more in love with that bloody woman.

But as she wiped away the one tear of frustration that did escape, she reminded herself that there was always the ball…

 


	4. The Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta thanks to Chiseplushie

Pansy proudly surveyed the ballroom. Parkinson House was - once again - restored to its former splendour and filled with laughter, light and music. She could almost imagine herself at her mother’s side, at that last ball they’d organised before the Dark Lord had risen from the dead and lured her family into ruin.

But this wasn’t _her_ triumphant return to society. Her eyes sought and found Hermione, a glass of champagne in one hand and the other safely tucked under Draco’s arm. Her laugh was just a little too loud, too exuberant, too unpolished, and she could see the flash of disdain in Amelia Greengrass’ eyes before the woman smiled politely and guided her husband away from the betrothed pair. Pansy was just in time to hear Hermione mutter, “Someone should tell her that no matter how many beautification charms, a frog is still a frog,” and she couldn’t help giggling. She’d always thought her friends’ mother resembled something of a toad herself. Hermione turned to her with a brilliant smile.

“Oh Pansy, thank goodness, someone normal to talk to. Honestly, these people… Snobs if ever I met any. They barely deign to take my hand as if I have some sort of infectious disease, and…” Draco nudged her and she stopped, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Tallulah Macmillan, the mother of that tiresome Hufflepuff who had tried to pursue Pansy for a few months some years ago, turned away with an unpleasant smile, and Pansy knew those words would be spread around the room like a case of the Dragonpox. She didn’t even have to do anything, Hermione was showing how unsuitable she was for the Malfoys with every breath and gesture.

“Dinner will start soon,” Pansy said. “You’ll be surrounded by friends then.” Pansy’s eyes flicked at Potter and the girl-Weasley on his arm, who were surrounded by a gaggle of redheads. She could barely suppress a shudder. Her grandmother would turn in her grave if she’d known Pansy had invited _that_ family into her home, but she couldn’t very well forget to invite the guest of honour’s only friends.

Hermione tensed as yet another society matron made her way towards the couple, and even Draco’s hand, possessively on the small of her back, couldn’t make her relax.

“Draco, darling, what a pleasure to see you again.”

“Madam Flint, what a surprise. I hope you are having a good time?” Draco pointedly didn’t offer his hand and Pansy, amused, decided to stay and sipped her champagne.

“I must say I was surprised to receive the invitation. You certainly made a most… unexpected choice.” Her eyes raked over Hermione with barely concealed aversion. “I’m sure I never would have allowed my son…”

Pansy hid her smile behind a cough.

“And how is poor Marcus doing,” Hermione interrupted. “I hope his stay in Azkaban is not too distressing. I hear it’s much more agreeable now the Dementors have gone.”

Mrs. Flint blanched and stalked off without responding. Draco laughed and kissed Hermione on the temple.

“You’re a delight,” he murmured, just loud enough for Pansy to hear. And despite the stab of jealousy Pansy couldn’t help admiring Hermione for the effective way she had put the Flint woman in her place.

* * *

 

Dinner was a special kind of hell. Pansy was trapped between the youngest boy-Weasel and Theodore Nott, Draco’s best man, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d sat herself across from the happy couple. She hardly tasted the scallop carpaccio or the soup or the stuffed quail, distracted as she was by the loving touches and glances from the couple in front of her and the boisterous laughs of the gaggle of redheads to her right. But the cold acidity of the tomato sorbet shocked her into paying more attention to the conversations going on around her.

“Don’t play the innocent,” Weasley was saying, “you’re the one who put Snape’s robes on fire in first year.”

Hermione tried to shush her friend but he just carried on. “And didn’t you keep that reporter in a jar for a while? Honestly, Hermione, I’m not surprised at all you ended up with a Slytherin. You fit right in.”

Pansy was now staring at Hermione with new eyes. Again she found herself admiring the woman and she hated herself for it. Clearly there was more to the bookish know-it-all than she had thought. She was staring so intently she hardly noticed that the next course appeared on the table, but when Hermione’s laugh froze on her face, she blinked and tried to find out what was wrong. _Oh. Of course._ She smiled.

“Lobster?” came Hermione’s slightly panicked voice.

Pansy’s smile became even brighter. “It’s one of Draco’s favourites. I promise you, the elves know just how to prepare this.”

“Pansy, that was so thoughtful! You know how I missed that,” Draco said, smiling at her and tucking in with the confidence of years of experience. A simple tap on the shell and a silent spell later, Pansy had nothing but delicious lobster meat on her plate. The others at the table had followed suit. Only Boy Wonder and Hermione seemed clueless how to approach the thing. Theo had engaged Draco in conversation about Quidditch, which distracted him from his fiancée, who was poking listlessly at the animal on her plate.

“I thought I told you not to serve lobster?” she muttered at Pansy as she tentatively grabbed one of the claws and wrenched it away, spraying the table in juices and cutting her hand in the process.

“I must have misunderstood,” Pansy said with an unapologetic shrug, between two bites of the delicious tail.

Hermione continued to tear and crack and fiddle with the lobster, making a grand mess, and everyone else began to notice. She could feel all the stares but refused to look up, even when Draco turned to her and said, with a laugh, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing, love? Why don’t you use a spell?”

“Spell? What spell?”

Draco leaned over and quickly tapped all the parts of the lobster she had already half disassembled, removing the shells and leaving only the meat. “It’s just an _Extractio_.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. Thank you.” Hermione didn’t seem to hear the sniggering in the dining room as she gratefully turned to Draco, but Pansy knew Hermione had, yet again, made a complete fool of herself, and smiled behind a napkin.

Then Draco and Hermione leaned into one another and started kissing. Pansy’s smile froze on her face and she could barely stop herself from clearing her throat while they continued to kiss and kiss and kiss as if there was no-one else in the room. _Well, that backfired._

When they finally - _finally -_ stopped, Draco lifted the bruised palm of Hermione’s hand to his mouth and kissed it gently before returning to his meal and the conversation with Theodore.

“He’s such a gentleman, isn’t he,” Hermione said with a happy sigh.

Pansy couldn’t even pretend to smile any more, and she finished the meal in lonely silence.

* * *

 

When the guests made their way back to the ballroom, Hermione dragged Pansy into one of the empty corridors.

“I don’t really have to dance, do I?” she hissed. Pansy looked amused. “Of course you do, Hermione. You have to open your own ball!”

“But I haven’t danced since fourth year!” She glanced around and lowered her voice again, her grip on Pansy’s arm tightening. “Please tell me it’s not going to be that bloody Wizarding Waltz again?”

Pansy shrugged and disentangled herself from the almost painful grip. She deftly tucked Hermione’s arm into the crook of her elbow and lead her back to the other guests.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It will be over before you know it even started,” she said airily. She nodded at the conductor of the Cerridwen Philharmonic Orchestra, and a moment later the first dance was announced. Pansy looked on as Draco came to ask for Hermione’s hand and led her onto the dancefloor. The first bars of the music floated into the suddenly quiet room and Hermione almost tripped over her own feet trying to remember the steps. Draco was too good a dancer to completely let her fail, of course, but every pureblood in the room could see the woman in his arms was struggling, and Draco couldn’t quite keep the expression of pain off his face when she stepped onto his toes for the fifth time. Pansy couldn’t wait to dance with him herself, but for the moment she was happy to just relish in Hermione’s discomfort.

Hermione almost ran from the dancefloor when the music finally stopped and a tentative polite applause sounded around the room, but was stopped dead in her tracks when the conductor announced, “And now it is time for the traditional parent-child dance. Would the father of the bride-to-be and the mother of the future groom come up to the dancefloor please?”

There were hushed whispers while Narcissa Malfoy glided towards her son, but Hermione just remained standing there, shoulders tense, back ramrod straight and lips quivering as she fought her tears. The whispers fell away into a painful silence.

“Whose idea was this,” Potter hissed at nobody in particular.

“It’s just tradition,” Pansy responded, remembering only now that Hermione’s parents had, as a matter of fact, not been included on the lists of invitees.

“Her parents are gone,” Potter said through clenched teeth. “She charmed their memories and sent them off to Australia before the War and she hasn’t been able to find them.” He made to move forward - either to Disapparate Hermione from the dance floor of humiliation or to dance with her himself - but he was preempted by the Weasley patriarch, who smiled at her and offered his hand. She stared at him for too long, and the man was almost stepping away again by the time she could make herself move into his embrace.

They danced awkwardly and off beat, and even Draco missed his steps because he was constantly sending concerned glances towards Hermione, who had buried her head into the elder Weasley’s shoulder to hide her tears.

“It eats her up inside,” Potter said as he watched his friend and glared at anyone who dared to make a disparaging remark within earshot. “That was a really cruel thing to do, Parkinson.”

Pansy didn’t even have to look at him to feel his anger radiating off his body.

“It was an honest mistake, Potter. These Betrothal Balls have set rules and traditions, and this is one of them.” She felt wretched.

The dance ended soon and other guests made their way onto the dancefloor. Hermione was guided out of the ballroom surrounded by a cloud of redheads.

Draco walked up to Pansy, his face a mask of indifference, but she could see the anger behind it.

“I didn’t know,” she said before he could rant at her, too.

His shoulders sagged a little. “I should have told you.”

“Nice of Weasley to step in.” She couldn’t quite keep the scorn out of her voice as she said the name.

“Not much love lost between Malfoys and Weasleys, but they do love her,” he agreed. “I should go and see how she’s doing. I think we’re probably leaving after this. She doesn’t like to be reminded of her parents. The wedding is difficult enough as it is, but at least she is prepared for that to have brought up… But when they are mentioned out of the blue, like this…” Draco shook his head and enveloped Pansy in a quick hug.

“Thank you for tonight, Pans. It was a wonderful evening, well, mostly. I’m so glad you and Hermione get along and that you did this for her. I really appreciate it,” he murmured, before letting her go and going after his fiancee.

It was only then that she realised she never had the chance to dance with him herself.


	5. The Trousseau

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta thanks to Chiseplushie

Having a conscience was most annoying. Pansy had never before suffered from that particular affliction, but after spending so much more time around Gryffindors it seemed to be catching. Not that either Draco or Hermione had held the unfortunate end of their betrothal ball against her. Draco knew parent-child dances were tradition, and Hermione admitted she had never told Pansy about her parents. But still, there was her own conscience to battle.

Hermione had dragged her once again into Muggle London for a shopping spree. Pansy hardly listened to Hermione's excited babbling, but reflected instead that, perhaps, it was not so much the conscience as it was the accompanying guilt that made life more difficult. She could not forget Hermione's anguished face and the pain she had unwittingly caused at the ball. Which was, of course, the only reason she had not been able to refuse spending the afternoon with Hermione.

Pansy only noticed they had entered a lingerie shop when Hermione stopped speaking and looked at her expectantly. She looked around uncomfortably.

"Lingerie?"

"Oh, come now, you're not prudish, are you?" Hermione turned around with a laugh. "I certainly never should have thought that of you. You keep surprising me, Pansy. I want to buy some new and sexy outfits to surprise Draco on the honeymoon. And who better to help me than you? Come along, let's browse and see what we can come up with."

And just like that, Pansy's guilt-softened heart turned to stone again. She could not allow this wedding to happen. She couldn't lose Draco. And she certainly wasn't going to find anything flattering to help  _that_  woman seduce  _her_  man.

"Of course," she said, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

* * *

The problem with lingerie, Pansy thought, was that it really did tend to be quite sexy and flattering, unless you went for granny pants and sports bras. Most of the colours were soft pastels which would look absolutely lovely on Hermione's dark body. Her mood had dropped to an all-time low and she started when Hermione popped up beside her with her arms full of delicate lace and shiny satin.

"I'll try these. Come along to the fitting room so you can give me your opinion. You are always so helpful, Pansy. You have such a good eye for fashion and colours." Hermione never noticed how Pansy's nostrils flared as she walked towards the back of the store.

Pansy sat down on a settee, arms crossed and face a studied blank, going over the many things she could say or do to undermine Hermione's confidence. The woman was very insecure about her body, it would be easy to make her unhappy and self-conscious about flaws that only existed in her own imagination. Pansy nodded to herself, just in time. The curtain to Hermione's cubicle fluttered and a hand firmly grabbed the edge.

"Ready?"

"Yes, of course," Pansy said, smiling to herself.  _Hips_ , she thought.  _Focus on the hips._

But whatever snide comment she had been prepared to make fell to dust in her mouth. Hermione stepped out from behind the curtain with an elegant twirl that showed off every curve and plane of her beautiful body, and Pansy had to bite the inside of her cheek, hard, to keep from any kind of reaction. The set itself wasn't even that sexy, cream satin with little pink and red roses. But Hermione's body was just… perfect. Pert breasts, soft curves, shapely legs and…

"Well," Hermione said, a little uncertain after a long silence. "What do you think?"

"Sweet," Pansy's mouth said before her brain could take control.

Hermione pouted. "Just sweet?"

Pansy coughed and shifted in her seat. "Well, I mean, it suits you. Very well. It's not very seductive, though." Surely at some point her brain would catch up with her mouth, right? Right.

Hermione smiled gratefully and disappeared behind the curtain again. "I think I know what you mean. Hold on a minute."

Pansy closed her eyes and sagged back, bumping her head against the wall repeatedly. "Merlin's balls, Pansy, this isn't the time. Draco. Think of Draco," she murmured to herself.

* * *

She had composed herself by the time the curtain moved again. But Hermione did not simply step out of the cubicle, as she had expected.

One leg, clad in thigh-high black stockings, peeped very seductively from behind the curtain, foot pointed and knee slightly bent.

Pansy felt her mouth go dry. She balled her hands into fists, her nails digging into the palms of her hands, but she couldn't stop her heart from beating faster.  _Was that a hint of suspenders?_  Pansy leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing.  _Oh yes. Suspenders._ She had a thing for suspenders. Always had. Was swallowing supposed to be that difficult?

A hand came out from behind the curtain, slowly stroking the leg from foot to knee to…

Pansy stopped her thoughts right there and shook her head. This was wrong. This was all wrong.  _Think of Draco. Draco,_  she told herself firmly in her mind as her eyes ravished the shapely leg and  _Circe's tits, was that a_ seamed  _stocking?_  She licked her lips and pressed her fingernails even deeper into her palms. She was pretty sure she'd draw blood soon.

The curtain opened slowly to reveal Hermione in an emerald green satin corset with silver lace on the cups and swirling silver and diamante accents over the stomach. Thin, dark green suspenders held up the black stockings, the top lace of which, Pansy now noticed, also had silver accents in it, teasingly reflecting the light. The set was completed by dark green and silver lace knickers that would leave nothing at all to the imagination if worn without the white cotton underpants Hermione had kept on, as per store policy.

Pansy licked her lips again.  _Think of Draco._  She shifted until she sat on her hands, her legs crossed and squeezed tightly together.  _Draco._  She was getting uncomfortably hot.  _Remember Draco in his swimming trunks that summer?_  Seeing Hermione in Slytherin colours did something to her that she wasn't quite prepared to acknowledge.  _Draco, Draco Draco, Dra… Oh fuck._

"Is this better?" Hermione asked from what seemed like ten miles away. Her hands slid down her body as she studied herself in the mirror.

Pansy blinked. "Anyone would appreciate that," she said. Clearly her brain hadn't taken control of her tongue yet.

Hermione smiled, satisfied, and Pansy shifted slightly to relieve the growing itch between her legs.

"I'll definitely take this one, then." Hermione disappeared into her cubicle again and Pansy sagged forward, her head in her hands. She had to go. Yes, she had to leave, now. She stood up, determined, and was about to yell at Hermione that she had to run because she had an appointment she'd forgotten about, when that dratted woman beat her to it and poked her bushy head around the curtain.

"I'm having trouble getting that corset off. Could you help?"

* * *

She should have refused. She knew she should have refused but her brain had apparently lost control over her feet as well as her mouth, because she was moving towards Hermione's cubicle before she could stop herself.

The stockings were dangling off the edge of a small stool and the lace and satin scrap that aspired but quite failed to be a pair of knickers lay abandoned on the floor. Hermione turned her back towards Pansy.

"It's all those hooks, you see. I managed to close it up at the front and then shifted it around to get it on but now I can't undo them from the back," Hermione explained patiently.

Pansy stared at their reflected images in the mirror, then quickly focused her eyes on Hermione's back. Her fingers trembled slightly as they went up to sweep Hermione's hair over one shoulder. Hermione drew a quick breath.

Pansy swallowed and began to undo the first hook at the top. She focused on the expanse of back that was bared to her, one hook at a time, and tried not to look at Hermione in the mirror. But Hermione was everywhere. In front of her, mirrored on every side, her scent - those bloody roses and parchment and honey - enveloping her completely.

Her knuckles brushed Hermione's spine as her hands went lower and lower, and Hermione's skin erupted in goosebumps.

Pansy leaned closer and closer until her breath ghosted over Hermione's bare shoulders, causing more goosebumps, and then she finally reached the last hook. The corset sprang free, and only then Pansy realised how close they were standing. Her hands came to rest almost naturally on Hermione's hips. Her mouth was inches from an elegant shoulder and a most delicious-looking neck. Pansy opened her lips and licked them absently.  _What would that skin taste like?_  Then she caught Hermione's face in the mirror. She had closed her eyes, but she was biting her lower lip and swaying slightly towards Pansy. She held the corset up with one arm on her stomach, the other arm trying but failing to cover up hard nipples.  _And all this is Draco's._

Pansy shook her head and took a step back.

"All done," she said, her voice sounding sharp and almost angry to her own ears. She turned around quickly. "I'm afraid I can't stay. I forgot I have an appointment in fifteen minutes. I'll see you next week."

She didn't wait for a response. She all but ran out of the cubicle, grabbed her purse and coat, and then she was gone. She never saw the confused look on Hermione's face.


	6. The Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Special thanks to Chiseplushie for betaing! Hope you all enjoy reading.

"That one looks like a Nargle," Pansy said, pointing at another cloud.

Draco chuckled. "Nobody's ever seen a Nargle except Loony Lovegood."

"So who says a Nargle doesn't look just like that cloud?"

They glanced at each other and burst out laughing. Pansy quickly looked up at the sky again. The grass tickled her legs and she tried very hard not to notice whatever critters were crawling up her hair. She didn't want to ruin this, one of those precious moments she and Draco had together, just them.

They lay on the lawn in companionable silence, until Pansy heard herself ask, "Do you ever wonder what it would have been like, if we… If we'd…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence and felt Draco grip her hand. She refused to look at him.

"Pansy, don't," he said quietly.

But Pansy's mouth seemed to have a will of its own, and while her brain screamed at herself to shut up, it just continued talking. "Because I do, you know. I do wonder. I wonder if, in another life, in another timeline, this would have worked out differently. If we could have been happy together. I like to think so."

"Pansy, please." His voice was soft but insistent, the grip on her hand tightening with every word. Pansy's ears registered the plea and all it implied but still her mouth continued.

"Because I do love you, you know. I always have. So I can't help but wonder about the what-ifs of our relationship. What if the Dark Lord had never returned. What if I'd followed you to France. What if that last year at Hogwarts had been different. What if... It never ends."

She didn't realise she was crying until she felt his fingers wipe away the tears. He'd propped himself up on one elbow and was leaning over her.

"Stop, please," Draco whispered, sadness and regret in his silver eyes.

"I can't help it," she whispered back.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a shuddering breath. "You can't do this to me, Pans. Not now. I'm getting married in a week. You're my wife-to-be's maid of honour. How can you say this? Why now?" His voice was as broken as she felt.

"When will I have another chance?" Pansy tried to blink away the tears that didn't stop falling. She swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was to her.

He shook his head. "How can you tell me, now, at this time, that… You must know how much I've always cared about you. But this…"

She reached out to him, hesitantly tangled her fingers into his hair and dragged his head down until their lips collided. It was agony. It was bliss. It was everything she'd ever dreamed about and more. Her lips moved against his and for an eternal moment she feared he wouldn't kiss her back. But then he moved closer, one hand cradling her cheek, responding with all the passion she had always imagined he possessed. A spark of energy ran through her body and settled between her legs, throbbing and fluttering and setting every nerve ending on fire. The kiss wasn't sweet or tender, but biting, bruising force and a battle of tongues and lips that neither seemed to win. She let her hands wander down his back, feeling his muscles tense under her touch. He pressed closer, hungry, demanding, and she fell to pieces. He moved from her lips to her neck, nibbling, suckling, finding that spot with ruthless precision and she couldn't stop herself from uttering his name in a breathy voice. But that seemed to be the wrong move. He jerked away abruptly and sat up, eyes wide with lust and shame.

"No," he said hoarsely. "I do love you, Pansy. I love you so much. But I also love Hermione. I chose her. I'm spending the rest of my life with her. This isn't happening. I'm sorry. No."

Pansy had never known that her heart could swell with endless happiness and shatter into a million pieces in the space of not even two seconds. Draco stood up and brushed the grass and leaves off his trousers.

"Let's just pretend this never happened," he said, not meeting her eyes. He turned on his heel and walked back to the Manor without saying goodbye, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed.

Pansy remained on her back on the grass, cursing herself for ruining everything. She watched him walk away without moving, angry tears dripping into her ears and hair. He loved her. He walked away. He didn't even look back. He'd chosen her. She'd failed.

At least she could drown herself in alcohol without arousing suspicion at Hermione's hen do tonight.


	7. The Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta thanks to Chiseplushie

Maybe playing 'Never have I ever' had been a bad idea, but Pansy would argue that it was very hard indeed to come up with any good ideas after delving into the variety of alcoholic beverages that Muggles had to offer. She'd developed a taste for Absinthe, which, according to Hermione, killed off brain cells just by inhaling the vapours that escaped from the glass, never mind actually drinking it. Just what she needed to forget… what she wanted to forget and refused to think about.

They'd done the rounds of every Wizarding bar in town until they had ended up in Luna's flat, a collection of brightly coloured liquors set out on a low table and drinks being refilled in a moment's notice. So when the Weaselette had suggested the game, Pansy hadn't objected.

And of course she'd downed her drink when that same redhead suggested she had never slept with Draco Malfoy. They'd been each other's first, after all. At least, first of the opposite sex. She'd grinned at Hermione's surprised face when it turned out she wasn't the only one drinking. She'd grinned even wider when it appeared Hermione had never kissed another woman. It turned out Pansy had something in common with the Weaselette and Loony Lovegood after all.

It had seemed like an even better idea to just continue drinking after they'd run out of games - or perhaps it would be more accurate to say they'd run out of brain cells to think of games. Lovegood soon fell asleep on the sofa, curling into the Weaselette who was also snoring softly. Only Hermione and Pansy were still awake. They were leaning against the coffee table, a bottle of gin between them. They'd forgotten about tonic long ago. Pansy wondered if Hermione also hoped the room would stop spinning soon.

"You really never ever ever kissed a woman?" she heard herself asking.

Hermione started to shake her head but stopped with an agonized groan. "No. Really, really, really, no."

"I like kissing women," Pansy said. "And men. Don't mind either way. Jus' like kissing, I s'pose."

Hermione's head slowly turned towards Pansy. Her eyes lingered on Pansy's mouth, which curved into a suggestive smile.

"Wanna try?" that cherry-red mouth asked, a pink tongue slowly licking the upper lip.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath. She bit her lip and shifted a little away from Pansy, but her eyes were still fixed on those seductively pouting lips. She glanced behind her at the sofa where Luna and Ginny had fallen asleep. They didn't stir. There was a mix of panic and curiosity in her eyes.

"'S jus' a kiss," murmured Pansy, sitting up and steadying herself with one hand on the coffee table.

Hermione leaned towards Pansy, just a tiny little bit. Pansy swallowed. Some part of her brain seemed to be begging her to stop, but she couldn't quite make out the reasons through a roaring cloud of absinthe and gin, so she ignored it. Tentative fingers reached out and touched her cheek, her chin, her lips. Pansy closed her eyes with a gasp. So innocent, yet her skin seemed to burn in the wake of that touch. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel her body tremble from the sheer force. Then soft, hesitant lips brushed hers.

She tasted of oranges and vanilla and alcohol. Her lips moved first tentatively, then more insistently, exploring, begging, nipping until Pansy opened her mouth just a little and their tongues met in an explosion of colours and fire that ran all over her body until it settled between her legs, pulsing, throbbing, yearning. Pansy drew Hermione closer until their bodies were flush against each other, curving into each other perfectly, one arm securely around her shoulders in an attempt to keep steady, the other against her lower back. She could feel Hermione's hard nipples brushing against her own through layers of fabric. When her thumb brushed the underside of Hermione's breast, she gasped and broke the kiss. Pansy opened her eyes again, wondering why everything in that room was whirling on its axis except Hermione. Hermione, who had kissed her. Hermione, who stared at her, eyes alight with lust and wonder.

Their panting breaths sounded too loud in the quiet room. Pansy leaned back, her hands gliding away from Hermione's soft body. She didn't want to let go, her hands lingering on Hermione's waist. One thought echoed screaming in her ears. _Leave! Leave now!_ She knew she had to go. But then Hermione kissed her again and any rational thought that had somehow managed to root itself in her alcohol-addled brain evaporated. One of them lost their balance, they didn't quite know how, and they toppled over onto the rug, Pansy on top of Hermione. Pansy's fingers got stuck in Hermione's wild curls and they broke apart again. Laughing quietly, Hermione helped Pansy untangle her hands. Their eyes met, their breaths mingled, and this time it was Pansy who moved closer until they were kissing again.

Pansy nipped at her neck, bit and kissed that sensitive spot in the hollow of her throat until Hermione squirmed underneath her, biting her hand to muffle her moans. She left a trail of kisses and licks over her collarbone and then lower, dragging one strap of Hermione's top down over her shoulder to expose her breast. It was covered in fine, white lace. She moved closer but before her lips touched the hard nipple, she hesitated and looked back up to Hermione.

"More?" she whispered.

Hermione licked her lips. Her eyes met Pansy's and she stared into them as if searching for an answer. Then her hands, though trembling slightly, found the shoulder fasteners of Pansy's robe and started fumbling with them until they opened with a decisive click.

"Sweet Circe, yes!"

Pansy continued to slowly undress Hermione, honouring every inch of skin that was bared, teasing her with barely-there touches and light kisses. Hermione was so very responsive, merely watching her reactions gave Pansy the same pleasure. She shrugged off her own robes and Hermione explored her body with a curiosity and tenderness that set an entirely new part of her on fire.

Dressed in only their underwear, they lay together, breathing unsteadily, fingers entangled, legs entwined and foreheads touching.

Pansy took a deep breath. Her nostrils filled with the scent of roses and honey and parchment and _Hermione_. She slowly trailed one hand up Hermione's legs until a finger hooked into her panties, gliding up and down her quivering stomach.

"More?"


	8. The Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta thanks to chiseplushie!

Pansy had returned home in the early hours of the morning, wide awake. She'd slumped down in a chair, her head resting on her arms on the table. She wondered if and how she could convince the ground to swallow her whole. It was all going wrong, wrong, wrong. And then Draco Malfoy stormed into the room, silver eyes ablaze and robes flapping wildly.

"What the fuck did you do?"

He didn't wait for a response. He strode up to Pansy, dragged her to her feet and pressed his wand in the hollow of her neck. His other hand grabbed her hair and pulled down, forcing her to look up at him.

"What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do. To. Hermione?" he ground out through gritted teeth.

Pansy had never before been afraid of Draco Malfoy. He was the boy she grew up with. Even in his darkest moments she had loved him unconditionally and she had never, ever been afraid. Now she understood why others once had been.

"I don't know what you mean," she said in a steely voice. "What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing? Let go of me. At. Once."

Whether he believed her or was startled by her tone didn't really matter, he did let go and lowered his wand, just a fraction.

"She called off the wedding." Fury, disbelief and hurt flitted over his face. "She bloody went and called off our wedding. After your fucking little girls' night. So what did you say, Parkinson. What did you do?"

Pansy blinked. "She… she called off the wedding?" she repeated, sagging back down on her chair.

"She did." The words were dispassionate, but Pansy knew Draco well enough to see the pain he was trying to hide.

"I… We…" She stopped. What could she say? She felt a twinge of guilt, but she tried to suppress it immediately. Wasn't this what she had wanted? Where was her wand, anyway? Why hadn't she kept it with her?

Just at that moment, the fire in Pansy's parlour turned emerald green. A few seconds later, a tear-stained Hermione tumbled out inelegantly. Draco reached out automatically to steady her.

"Pansy, I.. Oh…" She recognised Draco and froze. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, her eyes flitting uncertainly from one to the other.

"Hermione," Draco said, in that same flat voice that chilled Pansy to the core.

"Draco, I… I didn't expect to see you here." Hermione moved back a few steps. "I'm sorry, I should leave."

"Oh, no, please, do sit down and join us." Draco's voice was eerily devoid of any emotion, his face a deceptively calm mask and his grey eyes empty. Pansy shivered. "I was just telling Pansy about the change in plans."

"Draco…"

"She was just about to tell me what she had done to you to convince you not to marry me, you see. Do sit down." There was a command in his voice that brooked no opposition, and Hermione sat down opposite Pansy, her face hidden in her hands. Pansy noticed she was no longer wearing the beautiful sapphire ring.

Draco's mouth curved into a sharp smile that did not reach his eyes.

"It's much better to have these things out once and for all, isn't it?" He received no response. Pansy was very pointedly not looking at Hermione. She crossed her arms and studied her fireplace as if it was the first time she'd seen it. It certainly was the first time it had received this much attention.

"I should have known you'd go after Hermione somehow after I rejected you," Draco said with quiet conviction.

Hermione's head shot up. "What?"

Pansy kept staring at the fireplace, though her face had paled considerably. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line. Her shoulders tensed. She knew what was coming, but she wasn't going to admit defeat. She was Pansy Parkinson. Her chin lifted fractionally. She waited.

"Didn't she tell you that she came to the Manor yesterday? That she told me how much she loved me and always had? That we kissed and I rejected her because I had chosen you?" His words addressed Hermione but his eyes were fixed on Pansy.

"What? Pansy… Tell me that's not true…. Please…"

Pansy wished she could conjure up a laugh, and lie, and say he had read that situation all wrong. But she couldn't. She grit her teeth to refrain from turning to Hermione's pleading voice. Her eyes blinked. They couldn't see the one tear that ran down her cheek, it was turned away from both of them. But she could feel it, biting into her skin, a mockery of the sweet caresses of the night before.

Draco went on, relentless. "But that wasn't enough, was it, Pansy? You tried to convince me to break it off, you failed, and then you did something to Hermione." Draco's voice had lowered, soft and hypnotic. "Tell me what happened last night." When neither of the women reacted, he slammed his fist on the table and shouted, "Tell me!"

Pansy flinched at the sudden impact but still refused to look at either of them.

Hermione drew a deep breath. Her voice was broken, and from the corner of her eye Pansy could see how her shoulders sagged. "We had so much to drink. Played drinking games, you know the ones. 'Never Have I Ever.' I had to admit I'd never kissed a woman before. And we drank some more… and… Oh Draco, I'm so sorry. Pansy and I…" She couldn't continue but started crying instead.

Draco put a hand on her shoulder.

"You kissed," he asked, again in that soft hypnotic voice.

Hermione nodded. "And... more," she admitted through sobs.

Draco let out a cold and mirthless laugh. It sent a chill down Pansy's spine. Hermione was so startled that she stopped crying.

"You slept with my fiancee because I refused you? Oh Pansy, that is low, even for you."

Pansy still did not react. She was Petrified, unable to move, unable to speak. She could only wait.

"But it wasn't like that… Pansy… Tell him…" Hermione's pleading voice broke down and Draco laughed again. Pansy closed her eyes.

Hermione rose from her seat and clutched at Pansy's arm, trying to look into her eyes but Pansy kept her face turned away.

"Pansy, please, tell me it wasn't like that," Hermione whispered.

But Pansy couldn't say that. She didn't know what was true and what was not, not any more. So she said nothing. Not when Hermione cried again, her tears staining Pansy's robe. Not when Draco walked over, pried Hermione's fingers away from Pansy and told her, in a soothing, warm voice, "Let's go home, love."

Pansy just sat on her chair, eyes closed and face turned away until long after the pop of Disapparition told her that her visitors had gone. When the first stroke of noon from the clock in the hall resounded through the silent house, she crumpled and began to cry.


	9. The Redemption

Pansy took a deep breath. Bustling crowds of Muggles pushed past her, bumping into her with their many shopping bags busily tapping on their phones. Strange things, phones, she mused, distracted for a moment at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and absorbed in the hustle and bustle of Charing Cross Road on a Thursday evening. She couldn't turn away now, not after being shouted at by Potter and Weasley, not after lowering herself to ask for their help.

Shoulders back, chin up, smile on her lips, and Pansy Parkinson was ready. She pushed open the door to the Leaky Cauldron where she knew - or rather, hoped - Hermione and Draco would be waiting for Potter and his Weasley.

It had been seven weeks since the disastrous confrontation in Pansy's drawing room and she hadn't seen or heard from either of them. She hadn't tried to contact them, either, so she hadn't really expected it. She only knew the wedding had been postponed for personal reasons and a new date had not been set yet. It had, of course, been all over the newspapers and speculation on the reasons had made the headlines for weeks.

Pansy withdrew into the shadows as soon as she was inside and surveyed the crowd. There they were, sitting at a table in the far corner, heads close together and and hands intertwined. Pansy closed her eyes and counted to ten. At three, she began to walk. She'd never been the patient type.

She sauntered up, smile in place, and sat down at one of the other chairs at the table. Hermione turned pale, Draco flushed red. _Interesting_.

"We're expecting friends. Go away," Draco grunted through gritted teeth. The muscles in his jaw tightened ominously and grey eyes turned black with anger. But Pansy had been glared at by the best of them and refused to be impressed.

"I believe they may be delayed. Indefinitely. We, however, should talk," Pansy said in a light tone.

Hermione shoved her chair backwards. "Come on, we don't need to stay, Draco. Let's just go."

Pansy smiled, baring too many teeth to be quite reassuring. "Do sit down, Hermione. Don't think I won't make a scene," she purred. "And you, Draco. You really do not want me to say what I have to say at the top of my lungs. And I will, you know, so you had better both sit down and let me speak. You can leave afterwards." She leaned back in her chair with a confidence she did not quite feel and tapped her fingers on the table in a disorganised rhythm to hide the tremors.

Draco hesitated but he knew Pansy well enough to recognise the determined gleam in her eyes.

"Fine. Hurry up. We have plans."

"But, Draco…" Hermione protested, but she was quickly shushed by him.

"She isn't going leave us alone until she's said her thing, so let's just get this over with." Draco glowered at her again but Pansy shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling it caused.

"I'm so glad you're both being sensible," Pansy said in that same infuriating, light tone. Then she whipped out her wand and cast a Muffliato around their table."Just a precaution so nobody can overhear," she said, shedding her languid pose and leaning forward, suddenly nervous. She paused, at a loss for words.

"Well?" Draco gave her an irritated look. "You wanted to talk, here we are, listening, and you're not saying anything. We do have better things to do, Parkinson."

Pansy nodded, pushed the paralysing fear that had momentarily taken over her body away and began.

"I'm getting this all mixed up. But you must know that I came here to tell you the truth. And the truth is, Draco, that I've loved you since we were teenagers. I loved you so much, but I always thought we'd have time. Time to explore our feelings, time to grow together into a real relationship. But then Voldemort came back. Oh, don't flinch, for heaven's sake. He came back and took over your life, and my parents' lives, and the War happened. And then suddenly it was over, and you were gone and I was stuck here in Britain trying to organise my parents' lives and pick up the pieces. And then you fell for her." She nodded at Hermione, kindly, without the biting jealousy the words implied. "And I thought, it's never going to work. But it did. And you proposed. And I decided that I wouldn't give up on you just yet." She turned to Hermione. "That's the only reason I became your maid of honour. So I could remain close and try to sabotage this wedding from the inside."

"And you succeeded," Hermione cut in, wiping angry tears from her eyes. Draco put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, sending another glare at Pansy. "There's no need to tell us all that, Pansy, that was very clear already."

Pansy shrugged with a studied air of indifference. "True," she conceded. "But what you do not know is that… things changed. Not my determination to get you for myself, Draco, but my dislike of you, Hermione. I truly began to appreciate your sense of humour and your free spirit. I began to understand what he saw in you, and, to my great consternation, I began to see it in you as well. I… I tried to fight it but I couldn't. I fell for you."

Pansy paused and took in the incredulous faces of the couple across from her.

"I was very confused too, I will admit. I kissed Draco as much to convince him to break things off with you as to convince myself it was him I really wanted and not you. Neither worked." Pansy let out a sound between a laugh and a sob. "And you… You were amazing, Hermione. That night… It wasn't about Draco at all, no matter what was said the day after. I was confused then. I didn't know what I felt any more. But that night, that was just about us. About you. And I'm sorry I ever let you believe otherwise."

Draco opened his mouth to speak but Pansy held up a hand and he subsided. She stood up again. Her knees almost gave way but she quickly planted both hands on the table for support. She leaned towards Draco and Hermione and looked each of them in the eyes in turn.

"Draco, you told me, when we kissed, you told me that you chose her." Her eyes flitted towards Hermione and a soft smile stole over her lips. "That hurt, of course. But now I realise that means… that means you had to _choose_. You weren't indifferent to me, you just picked her over me."

She noticed Draco shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and knew she'd been right. She leaned a tiny bit closer and her voice became a soft whisper.

"What if you don't have to choose?"

She straightened up and closely observed their reactions, but she couldn't see much more than confusion and surprise. Her knees began to tremble again and she knew she had to get out. Just as Draco began to open his mouth to say something that would no doubt put an end to all her hopes, she leaned in again, giving both of them a good view into her low-cut robes.

"I'm not one for the subtleties of life, as you well know. It comes down to this. I like you both. I care about you both. I. Want. You. Both." Her voice was so low it was almost a whisper.

Then she pushed herself up again, coughed, and said, a little louder, "You have no reason to believe me, of course. So here's the proof." She placed a folded piece of parchment on the table.

"Luckily there is no reason to choose in this modern day and age. Owl me if you want to talk." She walked away as quickly as her trembling legs could carry her. She could barely breathe and Apparated home as soon as she reached the door. She sat down in the middle of her hallway, leaning her forehead on her knees and arms protectively covering her head. She had never been so scared. She had never been so brave. She had never risked it all. She let the tears fall.

* * *

In the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione hesitantly reached out for the parchment. Neither she nor Draco had spoken a word since Pansy had left, probably because neither knew what to say. Had Pansy really just suggested a three-way relationship? Was she even seriously considering it? But those thoughts had been pushed aside by curiosity. What could be the proof that showed Pansy really cared?

Draco leaned closer as Hermione unfolded the parchment. It contained just eight words.

 _Wendell and Monica Wilkins_  
25B Lomandra Drive  
Perth, Australia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta love to Chiseplushie


	10. The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-love to Chiseplushie

**10\. The Epilogue**

Pansy stretched out languidly under the satin sheets. It was too early in the morning for her to get up. The tantalizing scent of brewing coffee almost tempted her to leave the bed anyway, but she really, really loved those early morning hours she could just lie in bed and wait for the world to wake up. She rolled her neck and sighed contentedly while listening to the sounds of the morning.

The bathroom door opened and a flash of light illuminated the bedroom before a muttered Nox drowned everything into the grey darkness of the morning. It was quite impossible to keep the room perfectly dark with only curtains, but she'd learned to live with that. Perfect darkness caused night terrors she could very well do without in her bed partner.

A figure moved carefully through the room towards the door. It almost tripped over something and cursed quietly. Pansy smiled to herself.

"Off to work?" she whispered.

Hermione straightened up and whipped her head around. "Yeah. Want some coffee before I go? I can bring you a cup."

"That would be lovely, darling."

Hermione hesitated, then made her way over to the bed. She kissed Pansy softly, nibbling on her lower lip the way she knew it would drive Pansy mad with desire. Pansy's hands went up to cup her face but Hermione gripped them firmly and placed them on the bed.

"Took me ages to tame my hair this morning. Don't mess it up," she whispered in Pansy's ear.

Pansy smiled against her cheek. "I promise I won't."

Hermione nipped at her ear and squeezed her hands. "That's what you said last time." Then she straightened up and made her way to the door. "I'll bring you some coffee before I go." Her eyes went to the other side of the bed. "Make sure he gets to work in time today. He has a meeting at ten." Then she disappeared through the door, carefully closing it behind her.

Pansy looked at Draco, who burrowed even deeper under the covers. Her foot moved slowly until her toes tickled his leg and he grumbled incoherently without really waking up. Or pretending he still wasn't awake. Even after a year, Pansy still wasn't sure. But she loved finding out. Her hands wandered over to his body and she drew soft patterns on his arms and back until he turned around, grabbed her fingers to stop her teasing and drew her close.

"Too early, you witch," he mumbled sleepily, holding her in a tight embrace that made it impossible for her to move. She rested her chin on his chest.

"Are you sure? Apparently you have a meeting at ten. I should make sure you get out of bed in time."

"'S only half six, innit? 'S been a long night." His voice was drifting off again. "Lemme sleep. Sleep, too."

She closed her eyes and wriggled until she lay comfortably in his embrace, sleep slowly claiming her again. The door opened and there was a clank of porcelain being set on a table. Hermione placed a kiss on both their foreheads.

"We exhausted him," she remarked, tenderly tracing the line of Draco's jaw.

Pansy hummed in agreement, already in that state between sleeping and waking where the unconscious takes over and everything seems like a dream.

"You don't regret it, do you?" Pansy was only half conscious she had voiced her biggest fear.

Hermione cupped her cheek and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. "Us together? No, of course not. But we may want to be a bit more careful with our man. He still has to build up his stamina."

"Witch," muttered Draco, tightening his arms around Pansy. "Get your beautiful arse to work and leave us be. I'll show you stamina tonight."

Hermione's amused laughter tinkled through the bedroom as she walked away from the bed.

"Is that a promise?"

 


End file.
